Sunflowers Are His Favorite
by exiledasrogue
Summary: America CAN be smart, but he generally isn't. This time he ends up misjudging the time it takes for flowers to cross the 4,857 some miles between him and Russia. Maybe this time they'll finally manage to understand each other. AKA what happens when a person who ships RusCan and AmeCan but not RusAme accidentally writes a RusAme fic.


**I wrote a RusAme drabble at two in the morning and I don't know why. I don't even ship them.**

**I've never read a RusAme fic so I don't really know how the dynamics of their relationship work and I'm pretty sure they're really OOC. I tried, even though I didn't want to. **

**Oh well. Have fun, I guess.**

* * *

Sunflowers- yes, his favorite. His symbol of everything good and bright in a world of lonely darkness. And they were _dead_.

Drooping brown leaves, hard cracked stems. The blatant _mockery._

That damn American.

* * *

I walked confidently into the world meeting, eager to see if Ivan had gotten the flowers I sent him. Everyone knew that Russia loved sunflowers, and I had hoped that I would be a sufficient way for me to finally show the tall man my feelings for him.

It was pretty obvious that every time I opened my mouth, I just made Ivan hate me more. Hopefully, this would be a better tactic. I had even checked to make sure my gift would arrive the day before the meeting. I would probably be okay if Russia didn't love me back, I just needed him to know I had never hated him and never would. Maybe we could even be _friends._

I got to the conference room and Russia was nowhere to be found. It was only after we had finally decided to start without him did he arrive- late and looking scarily down.

Ivan's trademark childish (adorable, beautiful) smile was nowhere to be found. His (proud, strong) shoulders were slumped and he refused to meet anyone's eyes. The dark (intriguing, beguiling) aura that surrounded him was weak, as if he couldn't even bother himself to try.

I looked around, and the other nations didn't seem to even notice, they just returned their attention to China's presentation. I couldn't focus. I spent the whole meeting starting at Russia, willing him to look up and meet my eyes with his own.

No such luck.

The moment lunch was called, I leaped out of my chair and began pacing in silly little circles, waiting for Russia to get up. I received a few odd looks but was for the most part ignored, everyone far too used to my antics to pay much attention.

I waiting until Russia and I were the only two nations left in the room, as he didn't seem inclined to get up. Cautiously, I slid into the seat next to Ivan, slightly unsure of how to broach the topic at hand.

But a Hero is never anything less than completely confident!

Even when it came to big, scary (wonderful) Russia.

"Hey, Russia! What's up? You look a little blue- all that Communism bringing ya down? Don't worry, man, the Hero is here to save you! A nice dose of Democracy and you'll be good as new! Hahaha… um…" My confidence waned when there was no immediate pissy response.

After a tense moment in which neither of us moved or spoke, Russia lifted his head to reveal water violet eyes that held none of their familiar malice. It terrified me.

"Why do you hate me so much? What did _I_ ever do to _you_?"

Shocked, I could only stare and stutter.

"w-wha-? W-why? I mean-"

"Don't even bother lying. I know you're the one who sent me those flowers." He hissed. I merely gaped at him. If he knew it was me, then why was he so upset? Did he really dislike me that much? Was there no hope? Or did I make a mistake and he didn't like sunflowers?

"I-I thought you liked sunflowers. Aren't they your favorite? I don't know how I could have gotten that wrong… I'm sorry, Ivan…" I don't know what I was feeling so cowed at that moment. It was just that I had tried so hard, and it was all for nothing.

"I _do_ like sunflowers. That's the point, you idiot. Even now you're mocking me." Russia snarled.

"_Mocking you?!_" I was starting to get angry now. This stupid (perfect) Russian kept accusing me of things and I didn't even know what he was talking about. "How am I _mocking _you? I- you love sunflowers! They're your favorite! So I went to a shop and ordered sunflowers to be sent to your house! How is that in any way _mocking_ you?"

"You _hate_ me! People don't send people they hate flowers!" Ivan whispered harshly. I almost laughed. Almost.

"Ivan, I don't hate you. I _love_ you." The words fell out of my mouth alongside a self-deprecating smile and I turned around, running my hands through my hair in frustration. "That's what I've been trying to tell you all these years, but you've never been willing to hear me out and you always get me so riled up and I forget, and, well, I'm a _coward_ when it comes to you. Every time you say something cruel I just want to run away and cry in a corner somewhere. But I _can't_ because it's _you_ and there's _nobody else._" I stared at him and wished with all my might that I wasn't imaging the desperate light of hope in his eyes. "I understand if you hate me even more now. But please, please, _pretty please_, can you at least _try_ to be my friend?" Russia had stood up from his chair and I hated the half inch height difference between us.

"Only if you promise this isn't a joke. Please tell me you're not making fun of me. Please tell me this isn't my imagination. Please, please, _pretty please._" And I could see the corner of his mouth twist at his little joke for just a second before I fell forward into him and wrapped my arms around his neck, determined to never let go. Russia was frozen and hard, but I persisted, waiting for the warmth that I knew was buried somewhere in there.

"I swear, Ivan, I love you so much. Please, just don't…" I couldn't finish my sentence and just squeezed him tighter. Finally, _finally_, I felt him huge limbs return my embrace and I was enveloped in heat.

"I love you too, little Alfred."

And for a long moment we just held each other and laughed before Ivan spoke up.

"Why did you send me dead sunflowers, little Alfred?"

"They were _dead_? Is _that_ what you were going on about? They weren't supposed to be _dead_!" I scowled, frustrated that that was what had come between us. "But… oh… I guess, by the time they got from America to Russia… I didn't think about that… sorry." But my love only laughed.

"My silly, silly American."

* * *

**Was that as horrendous as it feels to me? Please tell me what you think of it.**


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